


A Beautiful Happiness

by rain_fa3ri3



Category: Beauty and the Beast - All Media Types, Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Alternate Universe - Beauty and the Beast Fusion, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Normal Life, Beauty and the Beast Elements, Blood and Violence, Castiel (Supernatural) as Beast (Beauty and the Beast), Castiel's True Form (Supernatural), Child Abuse, Dean Winchester as Beauty (Beauty and the Beast), Dean Winchester is Sam Winchester's Parent, Homophobic John Winchester, John Winchester Being an Asshole, M/M, Past Child Abuse, Protective Dean Winchester, Trans Character, Trans Dean Winchester, Trans Male Character, Trans Male Dean Winchester, Writer Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 13:02:27
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29368962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rain_fa3ri3/pseuds/rain_fa3ri3
Summary: Dean always wondered if he could get more out of life if he just put himself out there- but he swore to always stay in the shadows after his upbringing with an abusive father. Stay down, and protect Sammy. Dean spends his days now writing his heart away, dwelling in fantasy lands...but one day, fantasy comes to him. Who is that creature trapped in the woods? What do they want with Dean? And will he ever get back to Sam? Read on to find out!
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	A Beautiful Happiness

Not so long ago in a place not so far away, there was a man named Dean; Dean Winchester. Dean was regarded as quite strange by those around him, and was shunned by most in the community, preferring to stay at home and write while his little brother went to college rather than face the world outside his door. It seemed to Dean that all he had in life was Sammy, and not much else. So, he lost himself every day in creating works of fantasy, publishing books and short stories under a pseudonym, and hosting online chat room meetings about creative writing. He never let out his true identity, because he could never do that again, not after what happened before…

You see, Dean was trapped in the wrong body. He was born a girl, but knew since he was about seven that he was a boy. He told Sam when they were both in high school, and Sam accepted him right away. However, his dad was a different story. He hadn’t meant to tell him - he never even wanted him to know - because John Winchester was an abusive man, and an even meaner drunk. To think of John knowing Dean was bisexual, let alone transgender, caused the boy incredible fear.

It sort of happened gradually, John figuring out that Dean was ‘different.’ In 7th grade, he started wearing ‘boys’ clothes, and in 9th he finally cut his hair how he wanted: shaved on the sides and cropped on top, rather than the bob he’d had since fifth grade. John was mad about these changes, and certainly marked Dean’s body with his displeasure, but it was when Dean was in 12th grade and he ordered his first binder that John finally snapped. 

Dean had been tracking the package, hoping to catch the mailman on his way home from school, but the mail came early that day, and was opened by none other than John. 

“ _ What the hell is this _ ?” John yelled, slightly slurring his words, as soon as Dean and Sam came in the door. 

Dean stopped dead. In John’s right hand was the black binder with a rainbow heart on the chest; on the counter was the- as promised- discrete package, ripped open; and, in John’s left hand, was a nearly empty bottle of whisky.

“I should have sent you to that boarding school as soon as you started dressing like a lesbian. Shouldn’t’ve talked myself out of it…” John took a swig of his whisky. “Then it was the hair, now…” He gestures with the binder towards Dean. “This bullshit. What’s next? Gonna change your name? Start kissin’ girls?” John blinked at Dean, then suddenly seemed to register Sammy standing there, frozen, just behind Dean. “Go to your room, Sam.”

“No.”

“Excuse me, boy?” 

“I said  _ no _ .” Sam stood his ground, raised chin and crossed arms. Dean was moved; Sammy never stood up to dad, and now he was doing so to defend Dean.

“You dare disobey your father?” John took a step closer, and Dean instinctively shifted to protect Sam - and hold him back.

Sam practically spat, “You’re not my father.”

At this, John slammed the empty whisky bottle and the binder on the kitchen table and stomped towards Sam. Dean held Sammy behind him, which was made difficult by Sam’s determination to fight. “STOP!” Dean yelled. 

Surprisingly, John froze, probably out of drunken confusion. “Sammy’s not a part of this. Leave him out; this is between you and me.” Dean turned his head part way to address Sam, but kept his eyes on John. “Go to your room. I can handle this.”

“But Dean! I-”

“Oh, so that’s what you’ve done, huh?” John snarled. “Taken your grandmother’s name and made it all perverted. She’ll be rollin’ in her grave.” He grabbed Dean’s arm like a vice.

“Sammy,  _ go _ ,” Dean said through gritted teeth.

Sam shook his head.

“ _ Please _ .” 

Sam deliberated for a few seconds, glared at John, then ran off to their bedroom and slammed the door.

John moved in close to Dean’s face, and Dean could smell the bitter alcohol on his tongue. “Girl, you’ve gone and pissed off the wrong man.” He twisted Dean’s arm until he screamed out in pain. “You’re in for one hell of a night. And soon as I’m through with you, I’ll get little Sammy too. Bet you wouldn’t like that, now would you? Knowin’ you’re the reason for him gettin’ hurt?” John gave a wicked grin and squeezed tighter on Dean’s arm.

Dean fought back tears and stared John directly in the eyes as he spat in his face.

Then everything went black.

**

Dean came to about 30 minutes later. There was dried blood crusted in his hair and on the side of his face, and it felt like a rib or two might be broken. He knew there would be bruises to cover tomorrow - the only reason he wore any makeup. Then he realized why he’d woken: Sammy screamed again. 

Dean staggered to his feet and gripped the table next to him when the world spun. He took a few steps, stumbled, and rammed his already sore shoulder into the wall before catching himself. Sammy screamed again. Dean shook his head, which wound up being a bad idea, then went as quickly as he could down the hall with his whole body hurting. As he got closer he could hear Sammy whimpering, and the sound of a belt hitting flesh. 

Dean burst into the room, not as powerfully as he’d hoped, but John still turned. 

And behind him, Dean saw Sammy’s too-thin back covered in angry red welts and a few bleeding cuts. “Stop it,” Dean slurred. He realized only then that there was blood pooled in his mouth, and that one of his top front teeth was missing; he could feel the blood and spittle dripping down his chin, but couldn’t care enough to wipe it off. 

“Dean!” Sam said with a wince. As Sam turned, Dean saw he had a blooming black eye as well. 

“Weeeelllll,” John drawled, clearly inebriated as he stumbled in place. “Look who decided to show up. Thought I might-of killed you this time, girl.”

“I’m a boy. My name is Dean.” Dean gripped the door frame so his knuckles turned white. 

“Gonna play that way, huh? Then get the hell out of my house. I don’t want a f*ggot in my home.”

Dean stood stock-still, uncertain what to do.

“I said  _ go _ , girl. I don’t wanna see your face again, you hear? You get the hell out, and you don’t come back.”

“Dean!” Sam cried again, this time desperate. Dean couldn’t go, couldn’t leave his little brother alone with-

“NOW!” John drew out his pocket knife and stumble-lunged towards Dean, eyes crazed. 

Dean took one last glance at Sammy, then bolted down the hall, John trundling behind him. Dean grabbed his backpack as he ran by it in the kitchen then banged through the screen door and into the night.

**

He didn’t stop running until he was pounding on his friend Bobby, the school librarian’s, front door. It was five miles to Bobby’s, but 10 to the police station, and John didn’t let Sam and Dean have cell phones. So, this was his best bet. He could hear the television blaring, so he knew Bobby was home; it was just a matter of whether or not he would bother coming to the door. 

Dean breathed hard, heart thwacking his ribs, blood still running down his chin and forehead. He’d gotten here on pure adrenaline, and it was wearing off. Everything was hurting.

“I don’t wanna buy nothin, so don’t both-” Bobby stood on the other side of the screen door, staring at Dean with a bottle of half-drank beer in his left hand. “Kid? Is that you?”

Dean could only nod before bursting into tears.

“Jesus Christ, what in the hell happened to you? Get inside, come on!” Bobby unlocked the door and ushered Dean inside. “Who did this to you?”

“Bobby, we’ve gotta call the police. It was my dad.” Dean wouldn’t call him his father. “He’s still got Sammy...Bobby, please.” Dean gripped Bobby’s arm and looked him in the eye. “ _ Please _ .” 

Bobby placed a hand on the side of Dean’s face, a hard look settling in his eyes, before nodding and heading to the kitchen phone.

Dean blacked out again shortly after Bobby began the call, and jolted awake in a hospital room with the word  _ Sammy _ on his tongue.

“Hey, hey, kid- it’s alright,” Bobby said, gently lowering Dean back to the bed. “Sam’s safe. You’re both  _ safe _ .”

“Where is he?”

“Other side of that curtain,” Bobby said, gesturing to Dean’s right. “He’s sleepin’.”

Dean could hear his heart monitor slowing back to a normal rate as he assessed himself. Arm in a sling, probably broken. Missing tooth-  _ teeth _ . Concussion? Maybe. Black eye for sure. And a few new scars. Nothing he couldn’t handle. But if they had to go back…

Before Dean could ask his next question, Bobby held up a hand. “Don’t worry ‘bout  _ him _ , son. Jody locked him up good. Only wish I knew what he was doin’ to you boys sooner, I woulda got you outta there…” Bobby trailed off, brow furrowed.

“He- he told us if we ever told he- he’d make sure it was the last thing we ever did.”

They sat in silence for several moments before Bobby caught Dean’s eye, tears brimming in his eyes. “You listen to me: I’m gonna make sure that son-of-a-bitch gets what he deserves. ‘Ain’t nobody gonna get away with hurtin’  _ my _ boys.”

Dean felt a swell of gratitude in his chest as he lay back against the pillows once more. It only increased when the social worker came a few days later, and Bobby asked Dean and Sam if they would want him to adopt them.

Sam shouted with joy, and Dean just cried and nodded.

_ They were going to be okay. _


End file.
